Paranormalcy
Chapter Thirty-Five

DON'T MUSS THE MAKEUP
Arianna was studying my hair, deep in thought. Her face lit up. “I've got it! Remember Cheyenne in the masquerade episode?”
“Oh, my gosh! That's perfect! You're a genius!”
She smirked. “I know. Best episode ever, right?”
“Seriously.” I watched in the mirror as Arianna put in hot rollers. I had never seen a vamp in a mirror before. Turns out they do have reflections, but, just like in sunlight, their glamours don't quite transfer all the way. You can't see the corpse underneath, but you can tell that something is wrong. No wonder they don't like mirrors; I'd hate to see myself that way. Arianna avoided looking at the mirror, constantly shifting so that she wouldn't be facing it.
I'll admit the idea of her hands on my hair--her glamoured corpse hands--still bothered me a little bit. But I was trying to get over it. After all, things were a lot more complicated than they used to be. It was no longer see vamp, stun vamp, tag vamp. Now it was ponder the philosophical implications of people who had immortality forced upon them, doomed to hang onto the coattails of humanity while having almost none left themselves. Man, no wonder they drank blood.
When the rollers were removed, my hair fell down my back in loose, tumbling curls. Taking a crystal-covered barrette, she pulled a piece back from my face on one side in a slight braid, clipping it in place. “Perfect.” She smiled. I had to agree. The style was simple but showed off my hair, which was definitely one of my best features.
“You are an artist.”
“Oh, I know. Now for your makeup.”
The girl-bonding time with Arianna really made me miss Lish. Not that she would have been able to participate, what with the whole mermaid-underwater thing, but she would have liked to see it. As Arianna applied dark, dramatic eyeliner and fussed over which shade of eye shadow to use, I wondered about what Cresseda had said when we'd first talked. She asked me to return Lish to them. But how could I? She was dead; she was gone.
“Oh, my gosh.” Things clicked into place--how could I not have seen it before?
“I know, huh? You never knew you could be this hot,” Arianna answered smugly.
“Oh, yeah, you're amazing,” I said, covering. As good as I looked (and, really, I looked good), it wasn't anything compared to what I had just realized. I needed to talk to Lend right now.
I stood, but Arianna pushed me back down in the chair. “Not done yet, your lips are still naked.” It was all I could do to sit still as she applied a rosy lipstick hue with a hint of shimmer. “Okay. You are perfection. I'm a genius.”
“Thanks!” I smiled at her before I sprinted upstairs. Arianna laughed at what she assumed was my impatience to get into my dress.
“Lend!” I burst through his door. He looked up, surprised. Still in basketball shorts and a plain T-shirt, he was lying on his stomach on the bed, sketching. I stopped and frowned. “Aren't you going to get ready?”
He laughed. “Remove clothes, put on tux. Should take all of two minutes. You look hot though.”
“Listen, I figured it out!” I sat down on the end of his bed.
“Figured what out?” He pushed himself up to sit across from me.
“The poem thing! I know what it means!” Why hadn't I thought about it more? I'd been so stupid!
His eyebrows went up. “Really?”
“Yeah! Okay, so 'eyes like streams of melting snow,' duh. Then the 'cold with the things she does not know,' well, if she's like me she's cold all the time, right? Things we don't know, I'm not sure about.” There were a lot of things Vivian didn't know that left her feeling cold and alone. “Anyway, 'Heaven above and Hell beneath,' that's Earth, where we're all stuck. I mean, like the faeries are. But then 'liquid flames to hide her grief,' that's what the souls or energy look like--liquid, golden flames. And she takes them because they make her feel warm, like she's not alone anymore. But then the last part--'death, death, death with no release'? It's not about how she's killing paranormals! Remember what your mom said, about giving Lish back to them? Vivian's not just killing them, she's taking their souls and keeping them. They're stuck inside her, swirling around. So she's killed them, but their souls are trapped!” I was tripping over my words, talking so fast to get it all out before I forgot anything. “Lish and Jacques and everyone else, their souls haven't been released--they've just been stolen!”
His eyes widened. “It makes sense.”
“So do you think--What if we could get the souls out? Do you think that would mean--Could Lish come back? To life?”
He frowned. “I don't know. Those bodies, they were dead. Even immortal bodies can die if it happens the right way.”
“Oh.” My shoulders slumped. I really thought that I had figured it out, thought I could get Lish back. In those last few minutes, it felt like I already had her. And now I'd lost her again.
Lend put his arms around me. “I'm sorry, Evie.”
I nodded. It had been stupid. Even if there was some way that Lish's body and soul could be put back together, which wasn't likely (and would probably be gross, given how much time had passed), I had no idea how I could get the souls from Vivian, or if it was even possible.
“Still, I think you're right about the meaning of the poem. They're dead but not released, because their souls are stuck. That's something, at least.”
“For all the good it does us, right?” I sighed. He leaned in to give me a comfort kiss, but I pulled back. “Oh, don't even think about it. Arianna will kill you if you mess up my makeup.”
He smiled, raising one eyebrow. “I'm fully planning on messing it up before the night's over.”
“Good luck with that.” I left his room for mine, more than a little disappointed that my aha moment hadn't actually solved anything. I couldn't help but feel I was failing Lish in a major way, but I didn't know what else I could do. I'd figure out this Vivian thing. Eventually.
At least I had the prom for consolation. Shallow, maybe, but I knew Lish would have wanted this for me. I could see her now, eyes beaming at me in approval. And I could see the tight line that Raquel's lips would form as she looked at the lack of sleevage and hint of cleavage. I could almost hear which sigh she'd use.
If I thought about them anymore I was going to cry, and I was wearing far too much mascara for that. I stared at my dress, touching the material lovingly, blinking back tears. I had dreamed of a prom for so long, I couldn't believe I was going. With a boy I was in love with, no less. I would be as happy as Lish would have wanted me to be.
I wished there were a mirror in the room, but I didn't need one to know how awesome this dress was. I had only stared at myself in it for like half an hour the first time I tried it on. And with the added touch of my high-heeled, peep-toe slingbacks in light gold, I was pretty sure there had never been a better prom ensemble in the history of the dance. Rather than jewelry, I rubbed shimmery lotion on my shoulders. I sparkled enough on my own tonight.
Lend knocked. I opened the door, grinning. His reaction was perfect. His jaw dropped, then he just smiled like he couldn't believe his luck. I couldn't, either. Believe my luck, that is, because as hot as Water Boy was all the time, Water Boy in a tux was like ultimate hotness.
“You look amazing.” He held out his arm. I hooked my hand through his elbow and smiled.
“Likewise,” I said, trying not to laugh I was so happy. “Maybe you should have bought the tux.” He laughed and we went down the stairs to where his dad and Arianna were waiting with cameras. After about a million pictures (and I didn't complain, I wanted proof, lots and lots of proof, of tonight), we went to the waiting limo.
The driver held the door open for us. I stopped, squeezing Lend's arm. “You do know the driver is a troll, right?” I whispered, nervous.
He laughed. “Yeah, we know. Good family friend.”
We climbed into the back, the first ones to be picked up. After a few more stops to pick up John and Carlee (who smiled at me and complimented my dress), we drove to a small restaurant for dinner. The lights were dim and intimate, the decor elegant. We sat against a windowed wall, and I was glad--the plush bench seat meant I could snuggle in right next to Lend.
Then we drove to the high school. John complained loudly about how ghetto it was to have the prom at the school, but I didn't care. Prom was prom. And there I was, at a prom, at a normal, wonderful prom, with my mostly normal, totally wonderful boyfriend. I felt like I was glowing I was so happy.
We went into the gym, which was decorated with twinkling lights and gazebos, and I realized I really was glowing. In the dim lights my arm was like a flashlight. I glanced down at my chest and immediately regretted the neckline I had chosen. If my arm was like a flashlight, my heart was like a miniature sun. I put my hand over it and looked around, panicked, until I realized that no one else could see it.
“Wanna dance?” Lend asked, leading me out into the middle of the floor. Trying to ignore my glowing wrist as he put my arms behind his neck and pulled me in close, I smiled. It was some cheesy ballad, but I didn't care as long as it was a slow song. “So, prom.” He grinned at me as we slowly moved back and forth. “You like it?”
I beamed. “Better than Easton Heights.”